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Head of The Table Kill them all
Chaos reigned, brooms, twigs, torn shirts swinging aimlessly in the air, screams and a unified psyched energized chorus, “Justice for Peter!”, It went on again, again, and again. Divided in two, one side, sweating, tired but still pushing on, fired up by the will power for justice, sopranos, basses all unified, male female, in their luminescent orange work overalls that portrayed them as the justice seekers, they cried all aloud, the sun beating them hard mercilessly to force them to back down, but they couldn’t , if the sun can’t stop them can man do? The co workers had turned to protesters, jackals born to wolves with the bravery of a lion, the toughness of an injured buffalo fighting for it's life, and the courage of a honeybager. Enough was enough, time they paid, “justice for Peter”, Robins dream was framing it’s crust into reality, co workers stood there, No! They said repeatedly each louder than the last. Under the shade, staring right across them, they had their fair amount
Head of The Table Not yet over
His knees were still sore, he felt his neck break from it’s spine falling his head down, his head itself had a slight stream of blood flowing from his skull, down his ear, right through his bushy beard and down his neck, throwing his legs like some pissed off toddler, screaming “ Let me go!”. Struggles, but the lock was tight, trying to fall himself to loosen the grip but still tight, Risa talked to him at least he tried but the mood Mila was in, not even he can calm him down. So he just had to hold him down, and that wasn’t easy either, Mila was feisty, he was determined to go back, break him in half if he had to, if it wasn’t for the strong masculine biceps locking back Mila… he would have been on a rampage like an injured wild black bear, angry, dangerous. He couldn’t take it, not anymore, ever since he witnessed the cold murder of Peter by this tyrant, his had more than enough nightmares. Why! He could hear an echo in every dark corner, dejavous of Peter still in his stained blo
Head of The Table No one is spared
Clang! The cold metal case hit the large rusted blue crate, sore, dragging himself backwards shuffling he got his share of the transpired chaos, but he had it better than the other two. One lay there, unconscious, his face disfigured from launched raining fists, his skull had cracked and slight blood tinkled drop by drop, he had it worse than all them, the chaos came at him hard! The third, leaned back, nursing his not one but now two bullet wounds, one through his arm another below his gut near his left upper thigh. He was fading, he tried as he could but it was flowing, the second bullet cut through a vein, and boy! He the blood continuously flowed gulp by gulp. He kept pressure on it which reduced this critical condition temporarily, but the more blood kept coming out the lesser conscious he became and slowly his head lowered, his eyes fading, his breathing was reducing and with gravity, bam! He collapsed heavily on the brick floor, blood mapped from below, soaking his cotton clot
Head of The Table Chaos again!
Eyes wide open, a sympathetic figurative expression masked his face, on his temple drop by drop leaked blood, tinkling down in streaming slight lines through his back head and down the brick floor, a hole was punctured in the center, and there he lay lifeless, still as a rock, as silent as death. He looked down, pleased with his accomplishment, glad he got rid of the troublesome tick of it’s back. The muzzle had cooled down, despite the recoil having slightly shocked Brian, he was still fit when most likely it would have drained the little he had left. From six down to three, Brian stashed the gun, the sudden cooled muzzle gave a tingle as it came into contact with his waist, untucking and covering the arsenal of death. But after this is when he came back to his senses, that’s when he became aware of his suddenly rampant environment, he had killed a martyr and now the chaos unveils itself, this time as a whole!Smoke from tires set a blaze, rioting screams from co workers suddenly t
Head of The Table Kill the head not the muscle
Blinding lights, fidgeting on a stretcher, “Help me!” He screams turning from side to side, blood leaks like an unplugged filled sink, “Shots now!” The head doctor shouts worriedly, nurses rush him in the intensive care in the far room of the 50 floor hospital, his in pain, a lot of pain but still within the pain ripping his nerves, the agony eating up his veins, he was not finished yet, they will pay all of them but till then five shots of painkillers lights out imposter. Masked, green gloves, stitching kits on the side, bundles of cotton cool, red every where, he lost a lot of blood if they didn’t close it up soon he may be gone, this daunted the doctors and nurses. One hour, two… they finally came out, gloves soaked red, sweat on their temples, overalls dispatched in the dirty laundry container, the head doctor neared whom he thought were the closest relatives to the patient after all they wore worried faces and waited eagerly. “His safe, we have covered up the wound. Give him a
Head of The Table Press hive
A week now and still the cries are heard, we want justice! They scream, chant again and again, each day fueled them to be more vibrant, it was for their generation they were told, so no sleep no rest it was just riot, riot, riot. The headmen had it all planned, they psyched up the people, planted the notion that this was the only way they could get back for all the cold killings, so each awakening day, under the hot scorching sun, they would gather by dawn, start their consistent and protests, till noon they wouldn’t budge food supplies were brought by masked well wishers dedicated to their cause, and till dusk they would go back and wait for the next day to do it again. This consistent bugging, the bickering from these two penny worth people was too extreme to now turn a blind eye, so the government had to come in or else it won’t be Ben’s empire that will be on the rioters list.SUVs buzzed in day by day, headlines were the same every day, it was always, “Today’s news on the docki
Head of The Table Tyrant in cuffs
One batch wore the A class uniform, dark woolen navy shirt with several adornments, blending dark navy khaki trousers, some varied military creases, while others had theirs in the more 5 pocket design. The second batch wore the B class uniform which was more casual, home Lauderdale, and of the more crisp military style, button front shirts with slight varying military creases, with khaki trousers and some in jeans, others added the touch with a leather black duty belt around. Sooner than later they were dressed in their respective police uniforms, and as graduates of the law enforcement they all had their metal badges, insignias, and some preferred to tie the knot with their signature black, tactical, style boots. They were yet to armor themselves since this was a sudden run up call, the head inspector had blown the whistle three times consecutively each blow louder and heavier than the last, signaling their sudden meeting. He was locked in his encased cardboard office, it was ten
Head of The Table Bail or Surgery
A stable pulse, more regular wave forms than the inconsistent one weeks ago, the doctors were glad, same to the nurses and Mist too. When he was brought in they were all tensed, he had lost much blood, worse was he was unconscious, so he needed blood and fast, luckily he was group AB so getting a compatible donor was less stressful, moments later he was out of the ICU. But still he was under critical condition, the bullet wounds had injured some critical tissues and cut some crucial nerves, so if ever the hostler machine was interfered with or any dripper was moved from it’s place by an inch, he was back in the ICU and this time he maybe not as lucky. Now that is the first brother, the one who was lucky to take some few blows and two bullets, one for his bravery another for more emphasis to the first, he lay in ward 4B, still unconscious however he had a stable breathing, there now is the second one, the other brother to be more specific. What was his name again, yah Risa.Opposite